Bingo Bonanza 2019
by Entwinedlove
Summary: A collection of short fics that fill the squares on my cards for Bucky Barnes Bingo, Star-Spangled-Bingo, and Fluff Bingo. Note: Not all of them are fluffy! Heed the warnings at the top of each chapter!
1. Muppet

**Muppet**

_Bucky has to make a difficult decision._

Pairing: Natasha/Bucky (past)  
Rating: general  
Warnings: Impending Animal Death, Referenced Character Death, Grief, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat  
Tropes: AU – John Wick  
Words: 250  
Original Release Date: 4 April 2019  
Fill for Bucky Barnes Bingo, Square: B5 - John Wick AU

* * *

Bucky didn't want to do it.

The vet had stepped out of the room to give him a moment and he snuffled. He didn't want to cry but he had a feeling even if he held it off now he would be a sobbing mess when he got home.

His beautiful Muppet, with her orange and black spots, looked up at him with sorrowful eyes. He petted her gently and whimpered when more of her fur just shed into his hand. She'd always lost fur but since she stopped drinking two days ago, it seems to have gotten worse.

She was the last present Natasha had given him before she...

He knew he didn't have the resources to put the cat on dialysis especially without knowing how much it would extend her life. She really didn't like car rides; would he be able to put her through them every three days? How would that affect her quality of life?

A tear slipped down his cheek unbidden. Muppet purred louder.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he whispered. He leaned close and wrapped her in a hug, heedless of the mix of colorful fur that clung to his black jacket. "I'm so sorry. I don't want to but... the vet says you're hurting." Natasha was the one to make the hard decisions before but she was gone now. It was up to him. "I love you, Muppet."

The vet knocked on the door before she opened it. Bucky wiped at his tears. He nodded.


	2. Forbidden Fruit

**Forbidden Fruit**

_Sam goes with Bucky to a farmers' market._

Pairing: Bucky/Plums, Bucky/Steve (background), Bucky & Sam  
Rating: teen  
Warnings: Implied Bathroom Misfortune  
Tropes: Bucky Barnes's Plums, Crack Treated Seriously  
Words: 1,000  
Original Release Date: 5 April 2019  
Fill for Fluff Bingo, Square: I3 - Veg Out  
Fill for Star-Spangled Bingo, Square O5 - Forbidden Love

* * *

"All right, so, what are we here for?" Sam asked as he and Bucky walked towards the produce stalls of the open-air farmers' market. Already he could see some gorgeous strawberries in baskets that he might want to get. There were lots of pretty, colorful peppers too. He could think of all sorts of recipes where he could use just a fraction of the variety laid out on the stalls and tables around them. Sam groaned to himself. He should not have joined Bucky for this without getting lunch first. Everything looked really tasty.

"Well, you're here to get whatever you want. I know how you like to cook with fresh stuff, so get whatever. It's on me. In exchange... you're supposed to stop me from buying—" and then he coughed something that sounded like "alltheplums."

"What was that?" Sam asked, chancing a glance at him out of the side of his eye.

Bucky was looking down and he might have a flush going on. Or maybe he was just overheating in the late summer heat. Sam wasn't immediately sure.

"Last time I came here unsupervised, I bought all the plums one of the vendors was selling." He cleared his throat and spoke the next part in a whisper. "And I might have eaten them all when I got home." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Sam looked at him fully for a moment before what he'd said made any sense. When it clicked, he laughed out loud. After he got his guffaws under control he asked, "Really? All of them? Bet your digestive system was clean as a whistle for about two days."

Bucky coughed again, "Yeah, well." He glanced around. Sam spotted the young boy watching them about the same time he did. Bucky looked deliberately away from him. Kid wasn't doing any harm. Besides, Sam was probably the one to draw his attention—he'd been the one to laugh uproariously. "So, Steve has insisted I have a supervisor for my next visit. And since he's off doing some event thing that Pepper organized, you are my designated plum advisor."

They strolled past a table full of green and yellow zucchini that was so bright Sam thought he might need sunglasses. "So, are we going into this mission aiming to not buy any plums?"

"No, I'm allowed some. Just not the... entire display's worth."

"So, a reasonable number. Like six."

"Why six? Shouldn't I get seven, so I'll have one for every day of the week?" Bucky asked. He caught sight of the stall of the plum vendor and his eyes went wide. He licked his lips.

Sam could appreciate the display. They had a wide variety. Yellow ones, black ones, red hearts—which were Sam's favorite—they even had some pluots in the corner. Even he was tempted to buy a basket full. They looked delicious. He felt his stomach growl.

Bucky noticed and glanced down at him. "You didn't eat before we came out, huh?" He grinned. "So, how about we pick up a crate to split? That way, we can say I was reasonable and it's all on you."

"Nope. Not happening. Sure, I'm hungry, but I want more than just a few plums. Besides, you're not getting away with it that easily." He bumped his shoulder against Bucky's to steer him away from the plum display. Bucky didn't want to be distracted from them but Sam was persuasive. Or at least, had a good glare. Bucky walked away from the vendor. _For now_, his return glare said. "Why plums?"

The look that crossed Bucky's face rivaled the look on Steve's when he talked about Bucky. _Here we go_, Sam thought, _this is going to be interesting_.

"Because they're just so good," he said, whining the last word. "They're just the right mix of tart and sweet. Tender, juicy. Soft. They're good for the memory and..."

"And you're absolutely talking about a fruit like you're ready to sink your junk into it."

Bucky stopped walking and looked at him, stunned. "I am not."

"Tender, juicy, soft," Sam repeated, exaggerating Bucky's lovingly spoken words. "You sound like you're about to get down and dirty with them. This is all just a forbidden love story between you and non-consenting fruits."

Bucky smacked Sam against the back of the head with his left hand. It stung but Sam didn't do much more than twitch. _Jerk_.

"Six plums. That's it. That's all we're buying. And two of them are going to be mine."

"What? No, that's—Sam, come on, We'll buy nine. That way you can have two and I can have one for every day of the week."

"Nope. You've got to branch out. Plums can't be your whole diet. We're going to get some of those bell peppers. That celery and onion," he said pointing to a table further up. "And some of that okra."

Bucky looked at him oddly. "That's specific. And what the hell is an okra?"

"It's a vegetable." Sam paused and squinted in thought. "Or fruit," he corrected himself, "whatever. I'm going to make gumbo. Have you ever ate so much you just vegged out on the couch and didn't want to move?"

Bucky rolled his lips in and looked only slightly confused. "Uh, no. Depression kid, soldier, super soldier, asset. None of those really lend themselves to gluttony."

"Well, I'm going to make the best gumbo you've ever tasted. I'll make a big pot," —Bucky looked disbelieving,— "Three big pots. One for you, one for Steve, and one for the rest of us to split." Now that he'd made a plan, Sam was excited about it and he stopped at the first stand to start looking over the vegetables they were going to get.

"But what about my plums?" Bucky asked, looking longingly back in the direction of the plum vendor.

"Only six. But we're also going to get some strawberries, some of those peaches, and maybe a basket of blackberries."

"Nine."


	3. Stealth Mission

**Stealth Mission**

_Bucky is extra quiet when he slips inside the house.  
_Pairing: Bucky/Steve/Natasha/Sam  
Rating: general  
Warnings: none  
Tropes: Hurt/Comfort (maybe?)  
Words: 1,000  
Original Release Date: 19 April 2019  
Fill for Bucky Barnes Bingo, Square: O2 – Sam Wilson  
Fill for Fluff Bingo, Square: O3 – Quiet

* * *

Bucky crept into the spare bedroom through the window, careful to shift his weight so the floor didn't creak. Once he was standing in the room, his eyes adjusted fast and he could see the generic floral bedspread pulled neat across the queen-sized bed. He knew if he lifted it up, he'd find hospital corners so tight he could bounce a quarter off it. He moved past the bed, though, out of the room and down the hall on the balls of his feet.

The lamp beside the couch was on. Sam was nestled in the corner of the couch with a blanket mostly tucked around him. A book, with its binding being damaged by the minute lay open and face down on the cushion beside him. Surrounding him on the floor was wadded up facial tissue. A little further away was a small plastic trash bin. It too was piled high with used tissue.

Sam snorted in his sleep and Bucky could hear the soft wheeze to his breath as it evened out again. His head was cocked at an uncomfortable looking angle and his mouth was relaxed in sleep. A wet spot was starting to gather at the collar of his sweatshirt.

Bucky wrinkled his nose. Of all the bodily fluids he had dealt with in his time, drool was always the one that grossed him out the most. He moved around the room, cleaning up the little white tufts of soft paper littering the floor. He picked up the empty soup bowl from the coffee table between Sam and the TV, making sure to clamp his thumb over the spoon so it didn't slide in the bowl and make noise. He took it to the kitchen and tidied up in there, though that room at least had missed most of the sick-person-fallout.

Or someone else had cleaned it up before Bucky.

He thought about putting a pot on the stove to boil some water; the air felt dry and that probably wasn't helping Sam's nose and throat. He decided he ought to do it, he'd just have to keep an eye and ear out for it. The tricky part was getting a pot out from the cabinet without making any noise. He moved slowly, making sure there was clearance above and below before pulling the pot out. Running the faucet posed another problem. Full blast might make the most swooshing sounds but he knew at the half-on mark it made an odd high-frequency hum. He opted for fully on and held the pot at an angle so the water landed in the crease where the side met the bottom. When there was enough water there, he turned the faucet off and placed the full pot gently on the stove top. He turned the burner on high and went back to cleaning up.

When everything was back to normal, Bucky decided to investigate the main bedroom. On his way by, he checked Sam over once more. He'd shifted a little and his blanket had fallen down but his neck wasn't angled funny anymore. A line of drool hung precariously from the corner of his lips as his saliva battled with gravity. When gravity won out, Bucky suppressed a shudder and crept away.

He wasn't sure what he expected to find in the master bedroom but this wasn't quite it. Steve sat in a chair in the corner, awake but still. Meditating, judging by the slow, measured rise and fall of his chest.

Natasha was imitating a starfish, sprawled out with her head at the foot of the enormous king-size bed they all shared. A pile of blankets was slowly oozing its way off one corner like ice cream left unattended. Her eyebrows were pinched in sleep. At least she wasn't drooling.

"Did you get them?" Steve asked quietly from the corner.

Bucky reached down and pulled a brown paper package from one of the many pockets of his tactical pants. It had been folded over the square merchandise inside so as to not crinkle. He handed it to Steve, who slowly unwrapped it. "Isn't she going to get cold?" Bucky asked.

"Nah. She's been complaining about being too hot. Sam's the one who wanted all the blankets."

"Why's he out on the couch then?"

"Complained that his nose was too stopped up when he laid down," Steve whispered. He finally pulled the four little rectangles from the brown bag. Four boxes of maximum strength cold medicine, two in regular and two in non-drowsy day-time formula. Steve read over the back of one of the boxes before nodding.

Bucky shifted his weight from one foot to the other in idleness. "Do you think these will help?"

Steve nodded and eased himself up out of his chair. "Hope so." He gestured back towards the door and Bucky exited the room before him. They went back out to the living room. Bucky went on to the kitchen to turn off the stove, pleased that the air in the room felt more humid. Steve was looking over Sam when Bucky pointed to the spare bedroom. When they were in the room with the door shut, Steve said, "I didn't hear you come in."

"Came in through here," Bucky said, pointing to the window. He closed it and started undressing for bed. "Saw Sam sleeping through the window in the front room and didn't want to wake him."

Steve pulled the bedspread down and got in. He made a face when his feet didn't have much room at the end of the bed.

Bucky reached down and untucked the hospital corners. "Bed's too small for you," he murmured.

Steve wiggled his toes at him and grinned. "Yep, but they get preferential treatment when they're sick." He opened his arms wide, holding up the blanket, and Bucky crawled in beside him. "I'm glad I don't get sick anymore."

"Me too," he said. "Two of them at once is bad enough."

Steve snorted in amusement.


	4. Out of Season

**Out of Season**

_Bucky has the day to himself and it's __farmers' market day.  
_Pairing: Bucky/Plums, Bucky/Steve (background)  
Rating: general  
Warnings: Crack Treated Seriously  
Tropes: Bucky Barnes's Plums  
Words: 1,000  
Original Release Date: 19 April 2019  
Fill for Bucky Barnes Bingo, Square G3 – Grocery Run  
Fill for Fluff Bingo, Square B4 – Perfect Day

* * *

Bucky hummed to himself as he wrote out his to-do list for the day. He'd had a nice night's sleep with no nightmares, Steve hadn't stolen the blankets, and it was farmers' market day.

Best of all?

No one tagging along.

The last few weeks he'd done a wonderful job letting Steve and Sam think that he was going to behave at the market. He'd had a trial run the week before where Sam checked his bags before he left, making sure he had only purchased seven plums.

He'd made sure to eat the five extra yellow ones he'd purchased before he got back to Sam.

He grabbed his crochet market bag and took the elevator down to street level. There was a spring to his step as he strolled down the sidewalk, content to ignore all the grumpy people along the way. It wasn't their fault they were grumpy. They probably weren't going to be eating plums later.

He basked in the warmth of sunshine on his face and found himself smiling as he walked. Warm summer heat soaked into the thin material of his shirt and warmed the metal arm. He enjoyed the heat of summer these days, it banished bad thoughts. All that was left rattling around his head were thoughts about plums. The fresh, crisp, tart flesh with just the right crunch. The sticky, sweet juices running down his chin and fingers. The aroma that made his mouth water in anticipation.

Today was the perfect day.

He was going to get him some plums.

* . * . *

Today was a horrible day.

Bucky could feel the frown heavy on his face as he walked through the farmers' market for the fourth time. Everything had been beautiful and wonderful when he'd arrived but now that he was standing at the empty spot where the plum vendor usually set up his table, the world felt clouded and gray.

The first time through, he thought maybe the plum vendor was just as a different spot. Maybe they were near the entrance instead of near the back. But no, after making the circuit twice, Bucky concluded that that wasn't the case.

On circuit number three, he surreptitiously checked every vendor's face, thinking maybe the man who ran the plum stand was in trouble. He was missing; surely one of his stall neighbors would be worried about him. Yet no one seemed bothered by the missing vendor and his missing produce.

By Bucky's fourth circuit, he was distraught. What could have happened to the plum vendor and why was no one but Bucky upset that he was gone? Had one of the others hired a hit-man to take out their competition? Wouldn't the Avengers have heard about it? Stark's AI was constantly scouring the internet for things like that, they wouldn't have missed something this close to home. "Hey, you're the plum guy, right?" someone asked from one of the stalls near where the vendor normally set up.

Bucky turned to look at him and caught the minute flinch the man gave. Bucky exhaled and relaxed his hunched shoulders. He tried to wipe what Sam had called his 'murder-glare' off of his face but by the nervous way the guy was still looking at him he doubted it worked. "Am I the plum guy?"

"Yeah, you're here every week buying plums from my dad. He's mentioned you," the vendor said. In front of him was a wide variety of vegetables. Squash, okra, and green beans all were on prominent display. On the other side was a small basket of red and yellow apples.

Bucky nodded, glancing down at the produce so he wouldn't have to keep making eye contact. "I do come by every week and buy plums. Where is he?" The words sounded harsh in his head and he glanced back up to make sure the kid didn't find offense.

"Oh, he's taking the day off to help mom make jams. Next week, they'll be back with all the jars of it."

Bucky might have whimpered. Why would they jar up all the beautiful fruit?

His expression must have said as much and the guy shrugged. "It's that time of the year when all the plums seem ripe at once and they'd need two stalls just for the plums. It won't all sell before the fruit goes overripe and starts to rot. Best thing to do with it is make jams. Those sell well through the winter or until the market closes up shop in December."

Bucky's shoulders sagged. Or maybe his bottom lip wobbled. What was he going to do now? How was he going to get his sticky, tart, juicy fruit fix now?

"You know," the young man said, gesturing out between them like he was tossing out a solution to Bucky's problem, "The grocery stores will probably have plums on sale for another few weeks before they go out of season completely. You might try there." And belatedly realizing that he'd just sent a potential customer to a big corporation, he added, "But before you leave, did you want to get any veg for dinner? It's bound to be fresher than whatever you'll find at a grocery store."

Bucky wanted to dash out of the market and go directly to the store, on the off chance that they would have plums but he owed it to the kid to at least check out his haul. He gave a stiff little nod and looked around.

What could he get that would make Sam proud? Sam was always going on about adding more green things to their diet. Bucky wasn't getting the okra again, that was for sure, but squash wasn't offensive really. He picked out several large green and yellow squash and got an enormous bag of green beans. The kid offered him a few apples to round out the purchase.

Bucky left the market laden with produce and headed to the grocery store. He was determined to get his plums.


	5. The Falcon and the Housecat

**The Falcon and the Housecat**

_Sam still likes to romance Bucky. _

Pairing: Bucky/Sam  
Rating: general  
Warnings: none  
Tropes: Fluff, Werecreatures, Cat Shifter!Bucky, Falcon Shifter!Sam  
Words: 1,000  
Original Release Date: 05 May 2019  
Fill for Fluff Bingo, Square: B1 - Flowers  
Fill for Bucky Barnes Bingo, Square: U1 - Werecreatures

* * *

Bucky swished his tail idly. He was sprawled comfortably in the bough of an aged tree. The gnarled bark was a pale gray and if he rolled slightly it would pleasantly scratch through his fur. His coat was shaggy and long, longer than he used to wear it but, then, he hadn't shifted in a long time. HYDRA had never seen a need for him to be in this form.

He yawned widely, letting his ears fall back against his head and his tongue loll out. His jaw made a popping sound. He could nap right now. Just set his head on his paw and close his eyes, let the heat of the Wakandan sun soak into his striped fur and cuddle him as if a lover's embrace.

He twitched his tail again and took a slow survey of the world around him. The family he'd been staying with had gone to the market, half a day's walk up the dirt road to the north, taking their sons with them. The goats were minding their own, unconcerned with the cat in the tree above them. Every so often a nanny would bleat at her kid. None of them usually wandered further than the edge of the lake and if they did, he'd be able to find them easily enough. They had a particular scent that was hard to miss.

He yawned again and succumbed to the urge to set his head on his paw. A little nap never hurt anyone.

The piercing cry of a falcon next to him had Bucky startling awake. He opened his eyes and found large, golden eyes and a sharp beak entirely too close to his face. He was still in cat form which saved his hide because when he jerked back from the bird of prey he fell off his branch. Instinct had him landing on his feet and shifting back into human form. It also had him reaching for a weapon he didn't have.

The falcon flew down and as he landed, he too transformed, and Sam stood there with a grin on his face, showing off the gap between his front teeth. "Dude, you should have seen your face," he said, the words coasting along the top of a deep-throated chuckle. He strolled towards Bucky, closing the distance between them with a few easy strides. He held out something in front of him.

Bucky looked down at the small clutch of delicate blue and yellow wildflowers in Sam's long-fingered hand. He smiled as he took them from him, bringing them to his nose to sniff them. He knew they probably wouldn't smell like much of anything but it was a habit long ingrained in him; sniff whatever was handed to him. At least, in this case, sniffing flowers was mostly an appropriate response. He felt the slightest twitch in his right nostril a few fractions of a second before he sneezed. It was followed by a second one without time to recover. He moved the flowers back from his sensitive nose and blinked rapidly. He shook his head, snuffled, and looked up at Sam.

Sam's plush lips were pressed together like he was trying not to laugh. The crinkles at the corners of his brown eyes gave away his merriment.

Bucky glanced down to hide his expression. No need to give in too early, their banter was part of the fun of the game. "Not cool, Wilson, not cool."

"What?" Sam asked, taking a step closer. "I brought you flowers. You should be nicer to me."

"And you woke up me up by sticking your honking big beak in my face." Bucky looked back up at him and had to swallow the laugh that was threatening to bubble up his throat. He knew his lips twitched with mirth.

Sam's lips twitched too and although he tilted his face up and wrinkled his nose, he was smiling. "It's not that big. You're... small."

Bucky's mouth fell open in fake outrage. "I am perfectly sized for what I am, thank-you-very-much."

Sam snorted. "Right. You going to thank me for bringing you flowers, or not?"

"You're pushing that awful hard, aren't you?" Bucky said, looking back down at the nosegay. They really were beautiful flowers. He looked back up at Sam. "But you called me small."

Sam rolled his eyes and took a step closer. "Well, when you pick such an enormous tree to sleep in..."

Bucky sighed over-dramatically and turned, letting Sam loop his arm with his to stroll back towards their house. They were quiet for a few seconds and then he asked. "How was your flight?"

"Really? Couldn't think of another insult so you resort to small talk? You must have been sleeping really good to be this grumpy after a nap." When Bucky didn't answer, Sam bumped his shoulder against Bucky's. "My flight was lovely, thank you."

Bucky hummed and smiled, looking again at the spray of blues and yellows in his fist. As much as he liked the banter and he had been having a nice nap, his resort to small talk was because he wasn't sure how to act when Sam did these sappy, romantic things like bring him flowers. Romance and nice things seemed like they were from an age ago or maybe for other people rather than him. He didn't deserve it.

"Thank you for the flowers, Sam."

Sam grinned and pecked a kiss against Bucky's cheek. "You're welcome."

They continued to amble slowly back to the hut, ignoring the bleating of the sleepy goats as they walked by. They would have to round them all up in an hour or so, after dinner, but for now, they could stay out and enjoy the warmth of the setting sun. Bucky inhaled deeply, forgetting the flowers in his hand. He caught the sweet fragrance from them before the tickle overwhelmed him and he sneezed again.

Sam's laughter startled the goats even more. "You are such a house cat."


	6. Conceal, Don't Feel

**Conceal, Don't Feel**

_Steve connects with Elsa and Sam realizes he's missed something important about his best friend._

Pairing: Sam & Steve  
Rating: general  
Warnings: none  
Tropes: Fluff, Touch-Starved  
Words: 1,000  
Original Release Date: 5 May 2019  
Fill for Fluff Bingo, Square: G1 – Hug  
Fill for Star-Spangled Bingo, Square: O4 – Touch-Starved

* * *

Sam didn't think anything of it when he and Steve would watch movies in their hotel rooms. He would sit a little closer than Sam thought was necessary but he didn't touch him or anything. Not that Sam would have minded.

It was six months or so after they'd met, after all the shit with HYDRA and Project Insight. They'd run a promising lead on Barnes dry and Steve didn't seem to be handling it well. His temper was fraying and his brooding and pacing were eating away at Sam's patience.

So Sam had decided that they should take a much needed mini-break. He ordered up a list of Disney movies to marathon in their current hotel room in England. They started with something familiar—Snow White—and Sam picked a few of the ones he remembered from his own childhood before moving on to Princess and the Frog, Tangled, and Frozen.

Steve was engrossed in them. He leaned forward, blue eyes glued to the screen, foot tapping with the catchy music. By the time Frozen's climax was playing out, Sam was starting to doze, so he didn't notice the glistening tears on Steve's face.

Steve sniffling once as the ending credits rolled woke Sam enough to look over at him. As far as he could remember, they all had happy-feel good endings so he wasn't sure if what he thought he was seeing was actually what was happening. Was Steve crying? Sam had slumped over as the movies progressed and was mostly laying on the couch next to Steve. He reached out with his sock-covered foot and poked him in the leg with his toes. "You all right, man?"

Steve sniffed again and wiped at his cheeks. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Sam knew better than to try and be Steve's therapist but it hurt to see such a strong man crying over what was supposed to be a happy ending. He cleared his throat to hide the sound of sleep from his voice. "Come on, you can tell me. What's wrong?"

Steve gave a little hiccup like he was surpressing the need to sob.

That's when Sam sat up. Something was really bothering him. "Steve?"

"It's nothing. It's silly—I don't know what's—I need to wash my face. I'll be fine." Steve started to get up and Sam reached out and laid his hand on his shoulder. Steve practically shuddered under the touch. He did that little hiccup sound again and glanced over at Sam. His eyes were going puffy and red and he looked on the verge of truly breaking down. "It's just she was all alone. In that icy room with no one ever even coming close. When was the last time Elsa..." he shook his head.

"When was the last time she what?"

Steve's words were whispered like he was choked for air and couldn't make them any louder. "Got a hug."

Sam rocked back a little, his eyebrows pulled down in a frown as he thought about the last six months he'd spent with Steve. Aside from roughing up a few HYDRA agents and other bad guys, had Steve even touched another person? Sam knew he was getting to his limit too, knew he was itching for a visit with his sister where he could hug her and her kids and play with them and just bask in that familial warmth.

"Steve, when was the last time you got a hug?"

He bit his lip and shook his head. "The war, I guess. Maybe before, when Bucky shipped out. But there was casual touching and stuff then. Bucky or Jim or even Dum Dum wouldn't think twice about a pat on the back or sitting close around the campfire."

Sam's stomach cramped at the what he was hearing. "You mean you haven't touched another person since you came out of the ice?"

Steve gave him a don't-be-slow look before saying, "Nah, I just punch people without touching them. Of course I've touched people."

Sam shook his head. "No, I mean, other than for work with the Avengers or SHIELD."

He looked away and gave a little shrug. He inhaled heavily and swallowed the snot that must have been clogging his nose. "I carried Natasha after that missile blew up Zola's bunker. And she kissed me as a distraction in the mall before that."

"You're touch-starved, dude."

"I'm... what?"

"You've got to touch people. For happy, good reasons. It's part of what makes humans healthy and functioning. They've done studies and stuff," Sam said. He could see Steve's shoulders raising in defense.

Steve frowned heavily. "The agents handling my orientation were very clear about that. Casual touching is an absolute thing of the past. Touching someone without their permission could be construed as sexual harassment."

Sam nodded, "Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean people in the future don't touch at all." He tilted his head and looked over him. The redness to his eyes was already starting to fade but Sam had a feeling just a little push would knock his emotions spinning again. "Steve, would you like a hug?"

Steve made a choking noise but didn't actually start to cry. He nodded, slowly at first and then more quickly. Sam stood up and opened his arms wide. Steve stood as well and wrapped his arms around Sam's torso. He didn't squeeze at first, likely still a bit nervous. Sam squeezed him a little, letting his arms hold Steve around his back and over one of his shoulders.

Steve clung.

Sam didn't rush him, especially when he felt dampness gathering at his collar. He rubbed soothing circles across what he could reach without moving his hands from around Steve's body and let him cry. At one point he rocked them back and forth. He felt bad for not noticing Steve's touch-starved state earlier but he was glad he could help now. It was a long time before Steve let go but Sam didn't mind at all.


	7. Bedtime Story

**Bedtime Story**

_They might sound different but even young men share bedtime stories._

Pairing: Bucky & Steve  
Rating: general  
Warnings: none  
Tropes: Fluff, Pre-War  
Words: 1,000  
Original Release Date: 05 May 2019  
Fill for Fluff Bingo, Square: N2 – Dance  
Fill for Star-Spangled Bingo, Square: N3 – Free Space

* * *

As Bucky came through the door of their tenement apartment, he was already starting to take his jacket and tie off. The night was hot and muggy and he'd worked up a sweat at the dance hall. He thought the band might have played even more fast paced songs than usual.

Not that Bucky was complaining. He'd danced with several girls and paid special attention to his date and Steve's date. He'd felt bad that Steve had bailed, again, but he knew how the heat and humidity affected his breathing. Dancing just wasn't in the cards for Steve when things were like this. Steve didn't dance anyway.

Bucky was half out of his shirt when he realized Steve was sitting on the couch, head cocked at an odd angle and his sketchpad at his feet where it had tumbled to the floor when he'd fallen asleep. Bucky finished pulling off his shirt and made sure to be more quiet as he headed to the bedroom to undress for bed.

He must not have been quiet enough because when he came back out, Steve was standing in the living room, closing the cover of his sketchbook and tidying up. "Hey Buck," he said softly when Bucky came out of the room in just his undershirt and shorts. "How'd the dancing go?"

"Would have been more fun with you there," he said.

"I highly doubt that. Franny didn't really seem interested in me anyway. She was staring at you more often than not while we were getting a Coke from the drug store."

"That's 'cuz I was talking more. If you told more stories the girls would look at you too," Bucky said, though he knew it was a bluff.

Steve saw through it and snorted. "They don't want to hear how I got beat up in the alley or around the corner from the theater. They don't care."

"We just have to find you a gal who does," Bucky said. He walked forward and flopped on the couch, propping his feet up on the wooden crate they'd salvaged from the docks. It was splintered and made the apartment smell of saltwater and tar but it was free and a good foot stool for their lumpy couch. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm all right, Buck. You don't got to worry about me."

"You know I do anyway, punk." He reached out and grabbed his hand. He didn't tug on it until Steve had stretched out and set his sketchbook on the table. Steve yawned when he settled back down beside Bucky and Bucky smiled at him. "What sort of dames do you like? I'm obviously striking out here with Franny and Mary and Patricia."

Steve looked down at his lap and his shoulders raised up near his ears. Bucky braced himself for the fight he was gearing up to give. Then he relaxed and propped his head against Bucky's shoulder. "I don't know. Brunettes maybe?"

"Don't like blondes then?"

"I don't know. I don't think it's the girl's hair color that's the problem."

"Nah, I don't think so either. You got along fine with Gladys before she caught the eye of that fella from Jersey." Bucky wrinkled his nose. "What she sees in a guy from Jersey, I can't even imagine."

Steve laughed. "Maybe it's not the girls that are the problem. I mean, when you try to set us up on dates they're probably expecting someone who looks more like you, right?"

Bucky said, "It shouldn't matter what you look like. You're the best damn fella I know."

"Yeah, well. I don't know what to tell you. Nothing about this package is going to change. I'm always going to be this scrawny little guy who gets sick at the drop of a hat. You might as well stop trying to set me up on dates, you're just lowering your popularity that way." Steve yawned again and raised his hand to his mouth to try and cover it.

"Let's go to bed. You're tired, I'm tired. We can worry about finding you a gal later."

Steve rolled his eyes. He stood and led the way to their bedroom. He undressed slowly as Bucky crawled into his small bed on one side of the room. "We're going to find you a dame, one day Steve. She's going to appreciate you for who you are, for your big heart and scrappy fighting skills—"

"You mean my often bruised face?" Steve asked from his own bed.

"And you're going to get married and move out of the city, or at least out of this little shit hole. You're going to get that picket fence, that picture-perfect life you hear about on the radio and see in the movies and read about in the books."

"You're crazy, Bucky," Steve said. Bucky could hear him yawn again and his words were a bit slurred with oncoming sleep when he asked. "What about you? Aren't you going to get that too?"

"Yeah, sure," Bucky said. He swallowed to hide the doubt in his words. "My girl and I'll live next door to you and yours. Our kids will grow up together. We'll be grumpy, old men sitting on our front steps and smoking, watching the youngin's play while our wives gossip and make roast dinners every Sunday."

"Mmm, don't talk about food, Buck, makes me too hungry."

Bucky felt the gnawing ache of too many missed meals in his own belly and nodded in agreement even though Steve couldn't see him in the dark. "It'll be great, you'll see. We'll be happy and everything will be grand. We'll go dancing every Saturday."

"I can't dance," Steve murmured, almost asleep.

Bucky hummed. "You will. I'll try to teach you again. We'll work on it. You gotta be able to dance so when you meet your girl you'll be able to sweep her off her feet." Steve didn't answer except with the slow, deepening breathing that meant he'd fallen asleep.


	8. Un-hex-pected

**Un-hex-pected**

_Natasha is picked up by a handsome man who turns out to be her witch._

Pairing: Natasha/Bucky  
Rating: teen  
Warnings: Not Tony Stark Friendly  
Tropes: Fluff, Shifters, Witches, Hexworld AU  
Words: 1,000  
Original Release Date: 05 May 2019  
Fill for Fluff Bingo, Square: N4 – Discovery  
Fill for Bucky Barnes Bingo, Square: C4 – Bucky & white cat

* * *

Natasha, in cat form, darted in between the legs of the people on the subway. She hated the crowds but not as much as the wet streets above. She was supposed to be meeting Pepper, Peggy and Sharon for a lunch date but was running late because of the rain.

"Oh, Mommy look! A cat! I want it!" a grubby-looking child with scraggly hair shouted from behind her.

Natasha's white fur bristled at the idea of ownership even though the child didn't know any better. She darted past the turnstiles and out the emergency exit right under the feet of a portly older man with a cane. She could feel him teetering on unsteady legs as she slipped past but didn't look back. She twitched her ears behind her to hear if the man fell but there were so many people it was hard to hear one way or another.

At the top of the steps she had a choice. Stay in cat form despite the rain because she could probably get through the rush of people a bit faster or shift back and brace for her clothes to be wet and soggy by the end despite her umbrella?

Although she was standing at the very edge of the steps, a rushing woman in heels stepped on her front paw. That made her decision for her. Before the woman got two feet ahead of her, Natasha had shifted and called out, "Watch it!" The woman turned back with a confused look on her face and her phone pressed against the side of her head but kept on walking like she didn't know what she'd done. Natasha sighed, tucked her coat tighter around her and opened her umbrella. The back of her fingers were already starting to swell from being stepped on and she alternated tightening her fist to embrace the pain and relaxing it to keep it from aching too much.

Being a shifter in the city was rough. Shifters and their witches were minorities among the population and though they weren't overtly discriminated against, the normals of the populous weren't very generous or aware of them. There were still leash laws for regular animals and if a shifter wasn't fast enough or wearing a fucking collar they could be picked up, stuffed into small animal cages that were too small for a human, and taken to shelters for stray animals around the city. Sometimes it wasn't until they were being pulled out of their cages for euthanasia that they were able to shift back and explain what was going on. Then the shifter—or their witch if they had one—would be fined for taking up precious space in the facilities. There had been a few cases where desperate shifters had attempted to shift in the too small cages. The results were often horrific. If the shifters had a surviving witch, shifter-witch lawyer teams tended to take on those cases _pro bono._ Not that it did any good for the poor dead shifters.

Natasha was one of the rebels who refused to wear a collar. She didn't have a witch—nor did she want one. She did not want to be owned or even wear the facsimile of ownership. Not that shifters with witches thought they were owned but from the way the law treated shifters on their own versus those with witches, well, it was obvious what the law and society thought about it.

Pepper had a witch. Natasha had met him. He was arrogant and egotistical and didn't treat Pepper with all that much respect. Witches and Shifters were supposed to be soulmates, after all, but he didn't seem to understand that. Or rather, he did understand but didn't care. Pepper had cried on Natasha's shoulder once about how she still found other women in Tony's bed even after their bonding ceremony. Pepper's witch wasn't the only bad example of witches that Natasha had seen. She'd grown up hearing horror stories of abusive witches, draining their shifters dry for their magic, destroying what was supposed to be a sacred bond.

The wind swept down the sidewalk and caught her umbrella, almost yanking it out of her hand completely before it turned it inside out. "Shit," she muttered, "Useless thing." She shoved it into the next closest trash bin on the sidewalk and stood there a moment. She still had another block to go before she got to the bistro where she was supposed to meet her friends. A fat drop of rain slid down the neckline of her shirt. She huffed and shifted again. Wet fur, although a discomfort, wasn't as bad as soggy clothes. She scurried down the sidewalk.

She paused at the last crosswalk, tucked under the legs of a tall man holding a black umbrella. Before the light changed for them to walk she felt herself being hauled up into his arms. "What are you doing out here, little cat?" the man asked. The crowd and the traffic were noisy and she didn't think he heard her low growling. He didn't seem to notice her struggles even as he turned back the way they had come. It wasn't until she saw where he was taking her that she started trying to get away in earnest. There was a cat cafe just behind them.

The bell clanked over the door when they entered and Natasha struggled even more, engaging her claw in an attempt to get away. She was aware she'd drawn blood even as she landed on her feet and shifted. She turned around to find a brunet with grey eyes and four well-placed slices starting to bleed across his jaw.

In the instant their eyes met, she discovered exactly three things. One, this man was absolutely gorgeous and exactly her type. Two, he was her soul-mated witch.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't realize you—well." He glanced around, shrugged, and smiled at her. "I'm Bucky."

Thirdly, her anti-witch plans were screwed.


	9. A Lady's Favor

**A Lady's Favor**

_Some of the Avengers spend the day at a faire._

Pairing: Natasha/Steve, Pepper/Tony (background)  
Rating: general  
Warnings: none  
Tropes: Fluff  
Words: 1,000  
Original Release Date: 05 May 2019  
Fill for Fluff Bingo, Square: O1 – PDA  
Fill for Star-Spangled Bingo, Square: O1 – Roleplaying

* * *

Steve again tugged at the oddly shaped clothes he was wearing. Natasha had helped him dress in medieval garb all the way down to his red hose with their tie-on codpiece. He felt ridiculous in the chain mail and steel plate but he supposed he looked the part for the medieval faire they were at.

"I'm going to go get dressed and then we'll go," Natasha said, "Get used to moving in that, I think Tony signed you up for the jousting event."

Then she was gone, slipping from his tent before he could reply.

He paced, stretched, jangled, and clinked his way around his tent for a while before he finally grabbed the last few things she'd left on the cot. The first was a helmet. It had a movable visor but he couldn't get it stay open. He left it down, figuring the point was to obscure his face. His visibility was horrible in it though. There was even chain mail around the neck and throat of that. The other was a small shield that seemed to have two options for wearing, one with a long strap that he assumed went behind the neck and shoulder and the two he was used to. He slipped his hand into place. At least that felt familiar.

He left the tent. There were rows upon rows of tents now, multitudes more than what there had been when they first set up. Most of them were large, too large to resemble the war, but similar. The flap on a bright red tent two down from his opened and Tony stepped out. He wasn't wearing armor, at least not mail and plate, like Steve. He was wearing a black padded jacket with red and gold embroidery. If Steve didn't know his face, he wouldn't suspect the man was Tony Stark. Pepper came out of the tent between theirs with Natasha. Both women were wearing colorful dresses. Steve supposed they were as authentic as whatever Natasha had put him in.

"Where's Clint?" Steve asked. It was muffled by his helm.

"Clint's already mingling," Natasha said, reaching up and opening his visor. Whatever she did latched it open. "The archery competition is happening first, so he had to go sign up for that."

"Right, competition," Steve said, he looked at Tony. "What was this about a jousting event?"

"I signed you up for it. I thought you might enjoy a bit of combat or whatever."

"I'm a city boy. I don't know anything about riding a horse. I don't have a horse."

"We do," Pepper said. She reached up and tucked a stray strand of her blonde hair into her hat-scarf-thing. "I had Wanderlust shipped in from the farm in Kentucky. He's a gentle giant. I'm sure you'll be fine."

Natasha gestured for them to start walking down the tent corridor towards the sounds of the crowd.

Steve glanced at each of them but couldn't look at them and watch where he was walking at the same time. "Why are we here, anyway?"

"To relax and have fun," Tony answered like it was something he'd memorized.

"Whose idea was it?" Steve asked as they came up to the main thoroughfare. He could see vendor tents lining the way. The smell of bread and roasting meat wafted from one direction and burning metal came from the other.

"Who do you think?" Natasha asked gesturing to their right. Steve had to turn his entire body to see what she was gesturing towards. Clint was approaching.

"Hey!" he said, a wide smile on his face. "The coordinators have moved the jousts up because the forecast says it might rain. You ready to unseat your opponent at the tilt?"

Steve snorted. "I don't know why you guys think I can ride a horse."

"Ah, you'll be fine. It's like riding a live motorcycle," Clint said, then turned and led the way.

Wanderlust was a giant grey horse. He looked terrifying all decked out in shining armor that matched Steve's. That is until he saw his opponent. The other guy wore shiny black armor and he was taller and thicker around than Steve. Even his black horse was big and scary-looking. Pepper and one of the grooms guided him in what he was supposed to do and then got him mounted up.

It all happened so fast, Steve almost had trouble following things. He was handed a lance, told to try and stay on his horse while knocking the other guy off his. Then they were charging at one another. The first blow knocked both of them back and broke their lances but neither was unseated. They were handed a second lance and made another pass. He didn't do anything special but on the second pass, the opponent in black fell from his horse.

Steve was declared the victor and handed a flower to give to a lady for her favor. He didn't know what to do so he rode Wanderlust to Natasha and handed the rose to her. Her eyes went wide.

The announcer then said, "Will the lady bestow a kiss upon the victor? Does she return his interest?"

Steve figured now was a good enough time to get down from the horse. He was slightly surprised he didn't fall off when he tried. The groom in charge of the horse came rushing over and grabbed the reins but Steve wasn't paying much attention to him. He stood there in front of Natasha feeling a little dumbfounded. Pepper, Tony, and Clint were standing beside her cheering and clapping along with the rest of the crowd.

Natasha reached up and opened his visor for him again. Steve could feel the heat of a blush on his face and he leaned down to whisper that she didn't have to kiss him when she pressed her lips to his in a full, intimate, and very public kiss. Hidden by his helmet, Steve's ears burned red enough to match his woolen hose.


	10. Best Wishes!

**Best Wishes!**

_Bucky leaves Sam little love-notes. Sam reciprocates._

Pairing: Bucky/Sam  
Rating: general  
Warnings: Feels  
Tropes: Love Letters  
Words: 1,000  
Original Release Date: 05 May 2019  
Fill for Fluff Bingo, Square: O2 – Soft  
Fill for Star-Spangled Bingo, Square: O3 – Love Letters

* * *

Sam smiled as he picked up the green sticky note stuck to the inside of the fridge behind the orange juice bottle.

"You Make Me Happy."

Generic and cheesy, as usual, but once Sam got past the ridiculous Hallmark-esque quality of the notes he could appreciate them for what they were.

Love letters.

The Bucky Barnes of the 1930s hadn't really come back. His memory and mind were fragmented—not so much as to make him slow or challenged or anything—but he didn't operate like Sam or even Steve. The Barnes that found himself after Project Insight fell and HYDRA was exposed was something else. He wasn't the Winter Soldier but he also wasn't the Bucky Steve remembered.

It had been tough for Steve to accept and he'd gone on a long overdue vacation of sorts. Soul searching, now that he had the opportunity. The road had been rocky. Steve and Barnes were both capable of understanding the technology but that didn't mean they were super soldiers when it came to making it work when they wanted it to. Between the tech trouble and the difficulties they both found in learning to talk about their emotions—learning to let go of things they couldn't change, to let go of the what-ifs or the should-haves—the two were starting to make some headway where their relationship wasn't as fragile or built on previous expectations.

In the meantime, Sam had been the sole focus of Barnes's intensity. At first, that meant finding Barnes in the kitchen with bloody hands. Other times it was finding doughnuts and coffee from the place down the street that Sam considered a treat waiting for him on the counter when he came back from his morning run. Fresh oranges, though the first two or three had soft spots where holding the fruit had caused a flashback and his metal arm had spasmed and crushed them.

Then Barnes had moved past pastries and fruit.

It had started with actual Hallmark cards but after the tenth generic card, Sam had sat Barnes down and told him that he ought not to waste his money on him like that. Sam didn't know where he was getting the money anyway. At least Sam could use the greeting cards; Barnes never wrote in them so he could regift them if he needed. He wasn't sure he'd ever find a need for the "Happy Nurses Day" or the "Happy Taxes Day" card. Though if he thought for a second Stark didn't have dozens of accountants working to get him every loophole in the book, he thought the card might be fun to gift anonymously. Just fly up and leave it taped to one of the tower windows.

So Barnes had graduated from Hallmark cards to post-it notes. He'd sprung for the colorful ones: neon greens, electric blues, hot pinks, and the occasional plain yellow ones mixed in. Sam had found probably three dozen of them so far and none of them were ever in the same place twice.

Once he found a "Thinking of You" stuck to a new toothbrush where his old one normally sat. Sam had strangled on his orange juice one morning when he found one bright pink note inside the bottle. The ink had smudged too much to read it but he thought it might have said, "Happy Birthday." It hadn't been his birthday but that didn't seem to matter to Barnes. The next note had been a yellow one that Sam had found first thing the following morning. On his face. He didn't know if it might have originally been on his pillow and he'd rolled on it or Barnes had deliberately been messing with him but all it said was, "I'm Sorry."

It was the middle of August and had been swelteringly hot for two weeks when Sam had found a blue post-it inside his toothpaste tube that said, "Have a Pleasant Religious or Secular Winter Celebration of Your Choice." There wasn't any toothpaste left in the tube. The note wasn't even minty smelling.

"You've got to be shitting me," Sam mumbled. He opened the cabinet under the sink where he kept extras. He almost expected a second note to be there taunting him for the first but there wasn't. It did give him an idea, though. On his way in from his run, Sam stopped at the corner store and found a simple pack of plain off-brand sticky squares.

As often as Barnes was in Sam's house, he didn't stay in the spare bedroom or on the couch as far as Sam could tell. He'd tried to get him to stay but Barnes had argued that he was dangerous. He obviously hadn't gone too far though.

Sam wrote several notes for Barnes to find. "You're All Right With Me," You Can Sleep Under My Roof Anytime," "You're Safe Here." He also decided to be just as silly and random as Barnes. "You Deserve a Doughnut with Sprinkles," "Happy Mother's Day," "Best Wishes on the Birth of Your New Puppy," and "Congratulations!" He left them in places around his home that he knew Barnes tended to check. The fridge, the bathroom mirror. He even put one on the inside of the attic door.

The following morning, Sam woke up early seemingly at random. Out of curiosity, in case he caught Barnes sneaking through his house, Sam tossed the covers back and crept through the room. The door to the spare bedroom was ajar and Sam peeked in to see Barnes, in one of Sam's t-shirts and shorts, on top of the bed. His mouth was relaxed in sleep and his soft breaths made a stray strand of hair dance where it hung in front of his face. Stuck to his metal arm were all of the yellow post-it notes Sam had left him. Sam smiled and turned to leave and found another yellow note stuck to the door at eye-level. All it said was, "Thank you."


	11. By Any Other Name

**By Any Other Name...**

_Bucky and Peggy find something that turns Steve on. And then make full use of it._

Pairing: Bucky/Peggy/Steve  
Rating: explicit  
Warnings: none  
Tropes: Pet Names, Pre-Serum Steve, No Powers, Everybody Lives, Post-War Fluff  
Words: 1,000  
Original Release Date: 26 May 2019  
Fill for Fluff Bingo, Square: B3 - Blissful  
Fill for Bucky Barnes Bingo, Square: B4 – Kink: Pet Names

* * *

It happened quite by accident the first time or two. Steve had already been in the mood, or the situation wasn't appropriate. Peggy and Bucky had always used pet names with each other and Steve hadn't thought anything of it. But then, they hadn't been directed at him. Now he was with them, and those sweet little words were directed at him.

He'd been washing up, his back towards the table. The warm water was soapy on his hands as he cleaned up the last of the dishes they'd just finished their meals on. It was Peggy's fine china. She insisted on using it as casual dinnerware because she believed every day should be a special occasion.

Peggy had called him dear-one.

He didn't know what else she'd said because he'd shuddered, pleasure had swept up his spine and he'd dropped the plate he was washing. The sink of water cushioned it so it didn't break but he'd lost all coherent thought for that single moment.

Bucky had apparently been watching because Steve could hear mischief in his voice when he said, "Hold on, Peggy, I don't think our babydoll heard you."

Steve inhaled through his mouth. It sounded overwhelmingly loud to his ears. His head lolled back involuntarily as the words sent heat blooming in his belly. His cock started to plump.

"Hmm," Peggy said, noticing Steve's reaction. "I think that answers my question. What do you say, sweetheart? Do you want to retire to the bedroom?"

Before Steve could even remove his hands from the dishwater, Bucky was behind him, crowding up and pressing him against the sink, peppering kisses down his neck. "Do you like that idea, babycakes?"

"Uh-huh," Steve vocalized. He gripped the edge of the sink, and warm water slipped down his wrists. It gathered there for a moment, clinging to his skin, before dripping onto the mat at his feet. Bucky chuckled, and Steve could swear he felt it, dripping down his skin like honey, slow and sensual. Bucky tugged at his narrow waist and pulled him back enough to turn him and frogmarch him toward the bedroom.

Peggy was waiting for them, sitting in just her black silk slip on the bed. She'd already removed her stockings but her red garter straps still dangled from her belt. She tipped her head back and wet her red lips slowly—she'd reapplied her lipstick—considering him. Steve felt even smaller than normal pinned between her hungry look and Bucky at his back.

"What are you in the mood for, lover?" Peggy asked letting her eyebrows raise just slightly. Her gaze went down his body again to linger at where his trousers were tenting obscenely. "My mouth? Bucky's?"

"Nngg," Steve answered, unable to decide and fuzzy-headed from the feel-good emotions that were coursing through his blood. "Just keep talking."

"I think we can do that, can't we gorgeous?" Bucky said. Steve wasn't sure if it was directed at him or Peggy, but he didn't care. He leaned back against Bucky's strong chest and hummed, content to let them lead and direct him. He knew Bucky would take care of him.

Bucky moved him closer to the bed, and the two of them drew off his clothes one article at a time. Each suspender was slid off his shoulders with exaggerated slowness. Each button was given painstaking attention. Care was even taken to remove his shoes and socks. When they got to his undershirt, Bucky started to pull it over his head but left it covering his eyes.

"Isn't he a dream?" Bucky asked.

"He's darling. A dish. He looks good enough to eat." She followed up her words with a gentle lovebite on his belly and then his chest. She tickled at one of his nipples with her tongue before closing her mouth over it to suck.

Steve moaned embarrassingly loud.

Bucky's mouth went to the sensitive skin at Steve's neck, laving the skin until it felt tender. "You're our best guy, aren't you doll-face?" he mumbled as he moved further out to press a kiss against Steve's shoulder. He dragged his work-roughed fingers across Steve's lower belly and started working at his belt.

Peggy nipped a bit harder at Steve's chest and he started which caused his shirt to fall off. She smiled up at him. "Hello, handsome." She shifted back on the bed. "Why don't you join me lover-boy?"

Bucky's deft fingers had made quick work of Steve's belt, and at Peggy's come-hither command they dropped to his ankles. Before Steve could even raise one of his legs to crawl after her, Bucky had pulled his undershorts down as well, leaving him completely bare.

As Steve moved up the bed, Bucky's hands rarely left him. And when he was on his hands and knees over Peggy, leaning in to kiss her, Bucky huskily murmured, "What a peach. Bet you taste as sweet as honey." He bit lightly at one of Steve's ass cheeks. "Should I find out, doll?"

At the same time, Peggy wrapped her fingers around his cock and started to pump. He whimpered. "What is it, love?" she asked as if she were completely innocent.

"I can't, I can't..." he said, struggling to find words. The filthy, overwhelmingly pleasurable things Bucky was doing behind him caused him to shiver and gasp.

"It's okay, lamb, our dolly-boy. You can spill," she told him. Her words seemed to caress some hidden spot at the base of his skull, causing sparks to shoot off every nerve. When the world came back into focus, Bucky and Peggy were grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"You look like a pinup, all blissful and debauched like that," Bucky said, letting his gaze wander lustfully up Steve's body.

Peggy's gaze met Bucky's before she looked back at Steve. "Did you like that, dumpling? Should we keep it up?"

Now sated, the words didn't have as much of an effect on him. "I can't believe you didn't repeat any."

They laughed.


	12. Dirty Talk

**Dirty Talk**

_Natasha may not be able to admit when she's been beaten at her own game. _

Pairing: Sam/Natasha/Steve, Bucky/Peggy/Steve (past), Bucky/Steve (past), Peggy/Steve (past)  
Rating: explicit  
Warnings: none  
Tropes: UST, dirty talk, Post-Civil War, Pre-Infinity War  
Words: 1,000  
Original Release Date: 26 May 2019  
Fill for Fluff Bingo, Square: I1 – Passion  
Fill for Star-Spangled Bingo, Square: I1 – Dirty Talk

* * *

It had started out a simple, expedient way to make Steve turn red. He was undercover and trying to track a suspect in the gym. All the men in the room were doing high-intensity training and pushing themselves to the limit—except Steve of course. His limit outstripped everyone. And while everyone else was getting red in the face from exertion, Steve was barely breaking a sweat much less looking like he was having to try hard.

So Natasha had helped him along.

Just a few dirty phrases, whispered in the most seductive voice she could produce. Breathy, husky, sexed out. Even Sam, listening from another location in the facility turned a warmer shade on the surveillance cameras Natasha was watching.

"What the hell was that about?" Steve had asked afterward. His ears had still been pink.

Natasha had only shrugged. "You didn't look uncomfortable enough. Thought you could use the help."

And now, well. Turnabout is fair play, after all.

He didn't start out completely filthy either. Just peppered little comments throughout his commentary while she was infiltrating the mark's home. Just enough to elicit a, "You know she was trained in seduction, right? There's no way you're going to get her to blush," from Sam.

Then Steve changed tactics. Instead of saying naughty things to her, he started talking—reminiscing—about all the things he'd done with other people.

"...the way they used their tongue... probably should have been locked up for that. ...that suck-job in the alley behind the bar might have been the best of my life, I didn't think anyone could top that. Then they did... Sneaking into my tent at night, having to shove a sock in my mouth to hush me up. One time that didn't even work and I yelled loud enough to wake camp. Thankfully it was strangled sounding, so we passed it off as some wild animal. The knowing looks the tactical team gave us the rest of the day said they knew what we'd been up to. I mean, of course, they did. We'd all been working in close quarters for a while by then. We all knew what the others sounded like when we took a moment for ourselves."

Steve's voice was a quiet, husky whisper in Natasha's earpiece. She breathed deeply and evenly, trying to focus on her work even as he continued on.

Sam asked, "Did you ever hook up with two girls together? I mean, you were with all those hot women in the USO tours, right?" Natasha didn't think he remembered where they were or what they were doing, so caught up in Steve's storytelling as he was.

"Oh, yeah, there was definitely a few threesomes. Let me say that I had no idea what stamina was before the serum. Sex was always hard work, and my body wasn't reliable, especially if I got overexerted and couldn't breathe right. But afterward? Especially at the beginning when everything was so new, it felt like I could have gone for days. We did things that were so taboo, it's still hard to talk about. I put my tongue everywhere on my partners, and they did the same to me. And I really do mean everywhere."

Sam's amused hum sent a minute shiver down Natasha's spine. She gritted her teeth and finished up planting the listening devices in the office.

"You ever wear a girl out?" he asked.

The soft rustle through the earpiece told Natasha that Steve had shrugged. "There was a time or two when I made my partner come so much they begged me to stop because they couldn't keep up. That's when we started with the threesomes. It was easier if they could rest between rounds. Ever run out of lube but you've come so much that your partner's still wet with it? I've done that."

"Shit," Sam said, awe coloring his tone.

"Natasha, how's everything going?" Steve asked. The pitch of his voice was still lower than normal, and she couldn't tell if he was affected by his words or if he was doing it to try to bother her.

"The bugs are in place. Just working on extraction now," she answered. Before she slipped out of the mark's office she gave her disguise a once-over. She lowered her gaze and opened the door. She passed three people in the hallway on the way out, but with her eyes downcast and demure and the simple, worn clothes of a cleaner, she was able to exit the building and walk the three blocks to the room the men were set up in waiting for her.

When she was inside, she started to pull off the wig and dirty overalls she was wearing. Sam and Steve were looking at her face.

"I told you she wouldn't blush," Sam said. He held out his hand and waited. Steve moved deliberately slowly as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and placed a few low denomination bills in Sam's waiting hand. He left his fingers on them when Natasha started removing more than just her disguise.

She wasn't completely undressed when she launched herself at Steve, wrapping her legs around his waist. He caught her and held her effortlessly. "You jerk," she muttered as she kissed him. She was aggravated and angry and hot and bothered. When Sam let out a low whistle and started to walk around them, she reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt in her fist.

"Where do you think you're going?" she surfaced from Steve's passionate kiss to ask.

"Well, uh, you know... you two seem like you're—"

"Did you really not catch on that he was talking about Bucky and Peggy? You can't tell me his stories didn't get you riled up too."

"Yeah well, that doesn't mean—"

"Shut up, Sam," Steve said even as Natasha leaned way back, trusting her balance to the strength of her legs and Steve, to plant a kiss on Sam's mouth.


	13. Said the Spider to the Fly

**Said the Spider to the Fly**

_They say that smell is the sense most closely related to memory. _

Pairing: Natasha/Bucky  
Rating: general  
Warnings: I might have accidentally made Natasha a bad guy?, Ambiguous Intentions  
Tropes: Bucky Barnes Recovery  
Words: 1,000  
Original Release Date: 26 May 2019  
Fill for Fluff Bingo, Square: G5 – Perfume  
Fill for Bucky Barnes Bingo, Square: K5 – Bucky/Natasha

* * *

The smell of wax plants caught in Bucky's nose again.

It was familiar in a way that nothing much else was these days. Nothing besides the feel of a weapon in his hands. It was comforting, like the sensation of being in a well-hidden location high above other people. It promised safety. Or perhaps it was a lure. Bait.

After catching it for the fifth time in the fifth city since Project Insight went down, Bucky felt it must be a trap. Someone was following him. The scent was floral in nature, like wax plants maybe. It would be cloyingly sweet if he caught more than a whiff of it at a time.

Despite its comfort and familiarity, he did not seek it out. He didn't know why that particular smell evoked those feelings, but anyone following the Asset now was not either of those things. He thought perhaps it was a scent that had been mixed into his cryo-chamber when he was meant to wake up. Something to remind his mind what coming in from the cold was supposed to be like.

He was wandering through a conservatory in Prague when he caught the heady scent again. He didn't immediately flee as he typically would. He searched out the plant to confirm that it was indeed hoya. The smell in the conservatory was overpowering. So sweet it seemed to choke him. Black spots danced in the corners of his eyes, and they mixed with fragments of memories of a woman with soft red hair and soul-piercing green eyes.

Green eyes that had seen too much for how young they were. Eyes that had shone with something like confusion at the concept of love.

He fled then, all lost in his thoughts and confused himself.

When he stopped in Bucharest, the scent did not follow him.

The memories did.

The girl's—the woman's—name had been Natalia. He'd trained her. Not to kill so much, she had come to him knowing how to do that, but he had refined some of her techniques. Softened her rough edges. There were other things he'd been asked—or she'd asked for, he couldn't remember—to teach her. He'd done as she'd asked and fallen in love in the process.

She'd had no concept of the notion, repeated words given to her by her original instructors. Love was for children. And when he'd been as tender and as honest as he could be (as a regularly mind-wiped agent could be) she'd looked for lessons and tricks in his words.

When they were discovered there had been a moment right before the electricity rocketed through his brain when he'd smelled the hoya scent of her perfume and thought: Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe she'd been right. Because what good was a love-sick heartbroken assassin? Better to remove her completely, cut her out of his mind like a tumor, than let him worry over it like a wound that wouldn't heal.

The lure had not followed him to Bucharest. He wondered if he'd lost the agent or if they'd decided he wasn't worth the trouble. He'd learned the Avengers were taking the fight to HYDRA. Project Insight's collapse had dragged the shadow organization into the daylight, and now they were scrambling to salvage what they could. Bucky didn't know if he believed in justice anymore, but he did smile whenever he'd hear of another HYDRA nest being destroyed.

After that first onslaught of memories, sparked by the hothouse plant, more and more slotted into place in his mind. The longer he went without the wipes, the more he remembered. There were still blank spots, and he still had bad days where he struggled to remember the basics, rereading the same words in his journal over and over, but they became fewer.

Two years passed. He settled into an old apartment block with even older residents and made himself useful. He helped carry groceries, and they fed him. He helped fix leaky sinks, and they fed him. He helped unclog toilets and haul out the trash, and they fed him. The bunicii of the building adopted him as one of their own. So it was only natural that when a young woman named Elena moved into the building, they tried to play matchmaker.

They were persistent and she was interested, and Bucky felt whole enough to try. She was beautiful, with dark hair and eyes the color of the bluest ocean. The bunicii teased good-naturedly and said they'd make pretty children. She was sweet, and they had common interests. They sat in on date nights and watched bad American movies and good French ones. They went to the market together and helped the neighbors. The bunicii fed her too.

Soon, she moved in with him. That's when he started thinking that what they had was real. Possibly love. It was new and surreal and wonderful. He thought this might be what happiness felt like. It had been so long he wasn't sure anymore. He didn't think it was justice for all the bad things he'd done, but maybe it was justice for all the bad that was done to him.

Then one day he came home from helping one of the bunica carry her groceries up the stairs to find the apartment flooded with the smell of hothouse flowers. His lovely Elena sat on the kitchen table with her legs crossed leaning back on her hands, waiting on him. Except it wasn't her. It was someone else, with red hair and haunting green eyes, wearing her face.

"Hello Barnes," she said in Elena's voice. She smiled with Elena's mouth, plump lips pulling back to reveal her teeth. Bucky blinked. He wanted to look away but couldn't. He thought maybe he was dreaming. He wanted to wake up. "We've got work to do. Do you remember me?"

He wanted to run but could see the gun on the table by her hand. He nodded instead.

"Natasha."


	14. Play a Scene

**Play a Scene**

_Steve, Peggy, and Bucky do a scene. It gets a little too intense._

Pairing: Bucky/Peggy/Steve  
Rating: explicit  
Warnings: none  
Tropes: UST, Feels got in my smut, BDSM (Spanking), Words of Affirmation, Post-Serum Steve, Everybody Lives, Post-War  
Words: 1,000  
Original Release Date: 28 May 2019  
Fill for Fluff Bingo, Square: N1 – Words of Affirmation  
Fill for Star-Spangled Bingo, Square: N1 – Spanking

* * *

The blindfold was warm against Steve's cheeks. He breathed deeply to settled the tension that was building in his gut. He squeezed his hands together tightly where he held them behind his back and deliberately relaxed them. Waiting was part of the game, of course. He knew that. But the longer they made him wait, the more wound up he got.

And the better the payoff.

He took another slow breath and returned his mind to the stillness he'd been aiming for. Easing into the ache starting up in his knees where they rested on the wooden floor beneath him. His bare skin would be stuck to the floor under his knees and feet were he to try and move. He did not move.

When the door opened with the barest hint of a whispering creak, he didn't let it startled him. He heard the soft tread of bare feet on the hard floor. One of the two had sweat-tacky feet, enough that he could hear the way their skin stuck to the wood. Their movement sent tendrils of hardly-there perfume and cologne swirling around him. They would have applied their respective scents that morning before work. Steve held his next inhale to catch the taste of them on his tongue. There wasn't just old sweat lingering on their clothes mixed with their scents, there was fresh sweat. And the tangy musk of sex.

They'd had a round—or at least started—without him. Anticipation made his lower abdomen clench hard. His cock bobbed.

From his left, about two steps in front of him and standing, Peggy said, "Thank you for waiting so patiently, Steve."

He knew not to speak as she hadn't directed a question toward him. Directly behind him, Bucky put his arms under Steve's armpits and lifted. Steve didn't need the help, although he was a little achy, he wasn't stiff from the position. He let Bucky move him anyway, changing his position and posing him over the leather-covered bench in the middle of the room.

When he was in the exact position Bucky wanted him, with his body weight resting on his forearms, his feet braced, and his ass in the air, Bucky said, "You look gorgeous like that. And you're still hard after all that waiting, well done." He tapped Steve's hard cock with two fingers.

The only reaction Steve had was an involuntary gasp of pleasure.

Peggy walked closer and cupped his chin in her hand. Her thumb rubbed along his cheek under the blindfold. Her hand was damp and smelled of her juices. He couldn't stop himself from inhaling deeply. "Are you ready for your spanking, darling?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered.

He tracked them moving around him. Heard one of them pull the multi-tailed leather whip off its peg on the wall. A frisson of anxious fear tracked down his spine which made the hair on his body stand on end; behind him, Bucky released a breathless chuckle of amusement at the reaction. His spanking wasn't going to hurt, not really. At least not in the say way a punch to the face did. No, this was more about the sight-deprivation, the sensations and letting go.

And, of course, Bucky's part.

It wouldn't work without that.

The whistle of the whip moving through the air caught his attention and his entire body tensed for a blow that didn't land. Bucky released a hissed breath. Close to Steve's ear, he whispered. "Relax. That one would have hurt with you all tensed up like you are."

Steve did as Bucky said. Exhaling and letting the tension in his body dissipate. He was intrigued to realize how high he'd been holding his shoulders. After his next inhale, he heard the whistle of the whip again. This time it did strike. Full across both cheeks. It wasn't what Steve would call painful now but his breath still caught and stuttered. Peggy never held back.

"Aren't you lovely," Bucky said. "Love the way your ass jiggles when you get a whack and the way you tighten up a second later."

There was a two-second pause between his last word and the whip moving through the air. The sting of it came on his left butt cheek. She didn't pull the whip back in follow through, instead, she let it dangle and tickle at the back of his thighs. Steve focused on his breathing so he wouldn't break position.

"You're so good at this, Stevie," came Bucky's words. He'd moved around in front of him but didn't touch him. The strikes came quicker after that. "You're so gorgeous, sweetheart."

"We can't get enough of you."

"Look at you, beautiful. This all over blush, that red ass..."

"You're doing great, punk."

"You're such a good man, sometimes I wonder how we got so lucky."

"I'm thankful you're in my life, you know that?"

Steve's skin had started to glisten with sweat, he could feel the slipper-sticky feeling of it under his elbows and the bottoms of his feet. He felt cool air brush against his back as Peggy spanked him.

When Bucky didn't speak after the next spank, Steve expected him to finally move closer and offer up his cock for a suck job. Instead, he grabbed Steve around the back of the head and kissed him, hard. He pulled back just as quickly and whispered, "Thank you for catching me."

Steve broke position.

"Bucky?" He stood up and pulled the blindfold off to look at one of his lovers. Bucky looked emotionally wrecked like he'd been the one on the bench. He was shirtless, and his trousers were half unfastened and hanging loose at his hips.

Peggy had stopped too. "Bucky?"

"Sorry, I just..."

"It's okay," Steve said, reaching for him. He pulled Bucky into his arms and pressed a kiss to his temple. Peggy stepped closer, and Steve wrapped an arm around her too.

"I'm sorry I broke the scene," Bucky whispered hoarsely.

"Don't care. We love you."


End file.
